


Slave

by VintageJacqui



Series: Nasir's Brand Speculation Society [3]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 19:39:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/865837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VintageJacqui/pseuds/VintageJacqui
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After that beautifully hot hallway scene in Vengeance other stuff happens and Nasir has a brand… again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slave

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MsPiccadilly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsPiccadilly/gifts).



Nasir is still shaking, his muscles convulsing as Agron pulls out of him agonisingly slowly.

Their skin is slick with sweat, the thin blanket beneath them drenched with it and the air around them is hot and musky with their scent.

Agron rests his head on Nasir’s chest and listens to his heart beating, hard and strong, so beautifully alive that he has to bite back the sting of tears that spring suddenly against his heavy eyelids. He wants to memorise the moment, the ethereal glow that binds them now that they have lain together for the first time. He closes his eyes and tucks a hand under Nasir’s back, bringing them closer together.

"We were made for each other," he says, pressing slow, sweet kisses to Nasir’s abdomen, his cock aching again between his legs.

"Yes," Nasir replies simply, honestly, and Agron can hear him smiling. When he looks up, he sees that he’s right.

Agron moves up to capture Nasir’s mouth in a kiss. It’s biting and clawing, desperation and lust still overpowering them both enough for each touch to send the other wild. Nasir arches his back, his cock taking interest in Agron’s attentions again.

"Fuck the gods…" Agron pants as Nasir wraps his legs around his waist. He can’t get enough of his lover. Wants to taste and touch and bite and claim. He can feel Nasir’s release against his stomach and his mouth waters. Nasir liked it when his mouth was on him, sucking and teasing, making Nasir moan with a pleasure that he had never known. He had never had anyone attend to his body in such a way before. Never been caressed. Never been taken care of. Agron was doing his best to change those nevers. To give Nasir something he is worthy of. Love.

He licks a path down Nasir’s torso, taking each nipple between his lips and tugging at them with his teeth before sliding lower, his tongue flicking out to dip into the milky fluid coating Nasir’s belly like raindrops. It’s bitter and salty, but it’s Nasir and Agron can’t get enough. He nibbles at his hipbone, holding Nasir’s trembling waist with one large hand, inhaling the heat and scent radiating from his groin. Taking Nasir’s softening cock, he lifts it from Nasir’s thigh and opens his mouth, taking the head inside and laving it with his tongue, stimulating the blood to fill it up again, teasing it to full hardness.

"Agron," Nasir gasps, his hands tearing at the sheets.

Being gentle is not an easy thing for Agron. He’s a warrior, a gladiator, a killer. Nasir brings the good out in him, a tenderness that he didn’t know he had inside.

Nasir’s cock slips from between his lips, eliciting a frustrated hiss from his little lover.

"Apologies," Agron grins, licking his lips when their eyes meet. He just wants to look and so he does.

Soft, smooth, endless expanses of skin and tight muscle, ridges of bone. He runs his hands up Nasir’s body, adding kisses and bites where he wants. Nasir’s body ripples like a wave, his arms lifting above his head, a flash of white teeth as he smiles. He’s forever smiling because of Agron.

Taking hold of Nasir’s flushed cock again, Agron smooths it against Nasir’s stomach. The brand is there, peeking out of the dark, curly hair at the base of his shaft. He saw it before, when he undressed Nasir and spread him out on the bed, the letters that mean ‘slave’ even though that is not what the marks spell. Just like his own brand, the one that was forced upon Nasir is a reminder of the bondage that he suffered under the heel of his Roman master.

Agron touches it with his fingertips, lightly, almost fearfully. He can feel the anger swirling in his gut, but he pushes it away before the beast escapes.

"You should not have such a thing upon you," he sighs.

He finds himself kissing the spot where skin turns black, imagines the pain of it, the reason for its placement. He knows that Nasir’s position as body slave did not mean that he was used as a whore, but he also knows that Nasir’s cock was a desirable means to an end to the shit who owned him. That is what the brand is. Ownership, control, power. Agron kisses harder, sucking the skin into his mouth and pressing his face into the groove by Nasir’s hipbone.

He’s angry that Nasir’s freedom was bought and sold so easily. That ink sealed his fate more so than the collar that once adorned his neck. Agron is learning that some things cannot be removed so easily.

His breath catches in his throat when gentle fingers thread into his hair. Nasir sits up, cradling Agron’s head in his lap. Agron wraps one long arm around Nasir’s back while the other grips his thigh.

"The brand belongs to Tiberious. I was him once, but no longer. Spartacus broke the shackles from him and you…" Nasir tilts Agron’s chin up so he can look down upon him, "…you hold a free man in your arms. I do not want you to despair every time you see it."

Nasir’s eyes darken at his final words. This may be their first time, but he knows in his heart that he will never lie with another. He places his hand over Agron’s heart and lies back, guiding Agron to rest beside him. Their legs tangle together, bodies touching from toes to foreheads, Nasir safely cradled against Agron’s chest. The burning desire has shifted into something else, a deeper intimacy, that neither of them have ever experienced.

As they fall to slumber, Agron feels the briefest touch of Nasir’s lips against his. They cannot dwell on what is past, only on the life that awaits them. If it is short, both men know one thing that matters.

They are free.


End file.
